the first time i saw him i knew
by i-wanna-sparkle
Summary: draco is picked on cuz he;'s different and @ a new skool. can he find a friend? a thing 4 skool. love it, hate it, wateva just REVIEW! plz : : xxxxxx


**Hi! It's me again. ok, this is a bit like my other one off only i like this one better,, i think.**

**ok, this is 4 a competition skool. we need to write a story and it has to be 2 a4 pages,  
first line **must** be _i knew, when i first saw him, he was differrent._**

**please Please PLEASE !!!PLEASE!!! review!!!!! i need to know if i should hand it in. :)**

**(((and yes bex i no i changed it a bit, but i had 2 make it fir,, ok??)))**

**disclaimer:i own nothing, zilch, nada, ect.**

I knew, when I first saw him, he was different. It was evident when he walked through the iron gate, he wasn't the same. The people around all stopped and openly stared. He didn't walk like the other boys. They were full of confidence and laughter. No, this boy walked tall just like them, but he appeared to be empty, uncertain, worried and scared. Although, given the circumstances it wasn't really at all suprising. He was the new student at our school.

He didn't care about the people poking fun at him, or maybe he did and was just very good at hiding it. When an old banana skin was thrown at him he hardly flinched and just calmly flicked it off. When we came out for lunch, he looked around as if waiting for someone to show even a little hospitality and wave him over. No one did, so he walked over and sat alone under the small wattle tree.

While he was sitting there, avoiding eye contact with any one, he looked so small. Absolutely tiny in comparison to everything. While I stood there watching him, there was nothing more that I wanted then to go over and talk to him, to tell him everything would be ok. I didn't. What might have been one of the few chances I may have to befriend him and I didn't take it.

The next day the same thing happened, and the next, and the one after that as well. Every day he would do the same things. He would sit silently and alone under his wattle tree, he would walk to class alone and silent, and would turn away from all the jibes, the cruel words and the staring eyes.

It was over a month later when I finally picked up enough courage to go and talk to him, despite all the people judging. That day I looked for him at lunch. He wasn't under his wattle tree and I didn't look any further. I figured that if he wasn't under his wattle tree, he probably wasn't there. I stopped looking until I heard the laughter.

This laughter wasn't a happy sort of laughter, the sort that you would probably hear from a child with a new toy. The laughter I heard that day would haunt me. It was the laughter you hear from the horrid people who hold a magnifying glass over an ant and watch it squirm. Slowly, almost dreading what would come with that taunting, evil laughter I turned.

At first it didn't seem very bad. That was until I noticed a group of boys standing almost in a circle. It took me a moment to realise that they were surrounding someone. They were standing around a slumped over figure. They were throwing things at him, spitting at him and yelling things like 'go and crawl back to your mansion!' and 'You don't belong here!'.

As if that wasn't bad enough, all the teachers were turning a blind eye on it. I couldn't believe what was happening. The scene before me was playing over and over. As if once in slow motion, then in fast forward. The same laughter as I heard the first time was still going. For a moment I couldn't even tell what was happening at that moment and what I had just been thinking about. Another wave of insults brought me back to my senses.

Furious, I storm forward. Picking up pace until I was in a slow run over to the group. I announced my arrival by screaming at them.

"How dare you?! How could you do something like that to any one or anything?" My voice had started out strong but by the end was nothing more then a whisper. They looked at me in surprise, many of the other kids now looked on with a greater interest and even some of the teachers looked over worriedly.

They small group of boys shrugged, looked at each other, then to the boy who was doubled over in agony and then back to me. They laughed and took off at a run. When they went behind the History block and were out of sight I jogged over to the boy and helped him up.

At first he flinched at my touch but after a moment realised that I was trying to help him. With no great difficulty I lead him over to his wattle tree and sat him down there. I could still feel a few pairs of eyes on us, but I no longer cared. He had a few bruises but it didn't break the skin.

We sat there looking at the ground. Suddenly he shoved out his hand. I jumped back in surprise, then shook it. That day we introduced ourselves and talked. The next I walked over and sat with him.

We would sit there at lunch and he would tell me stories of all the places that he has been. We would sit there in this fashion, just talking. I was captivated by him. It was a nice setting with the sun filtered through the trees onto his pale skin. The backdrop of colourful wattle was pretty.

When he smiled it stood out. When he told stories his eyes would light up as if the sun was one of the campfires that he told me about in his stories and that it was reflecting out of him. I realised just how much he fitted in with his natural environment, the one with stories and meanings not the school one.

Now, looking back I realise just how completely wrong I was about him I was. He wasn't empty, uncertain and scared but instead he was brave and kind. The only thing that I actually got right was the fact that he was different. He was different to the other boys, but in a better way.

Years later, when we all finished school, him and me walk down the empty corridors. We go past the History block, walk out side hand-in-hand and sit under his wattle tree.

**heyya! hope u lurved. plz plz plz plz plz plz review!!! ~~~if you review for this i might up date other stories faster!! ;)~~~**


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